


Dreamer

by doublejoint



Category: One Piece
Genre: 5 Times, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-12
Updated: 2020-09-12
Packaged: 2021-03-06 17:56:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26422996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doublejoint/pseuds/doublejoint
Summary: Five times Ace fell asleep
Relationships: Buggy/Portgas D. Ace
Comments: 1
Kudos: 22





	Dreamer

**Author's Note:**

> "drinking buddy" ok buggy

The third time Ace falls asleep in the middle of a sentence, Buggy doesn’t startle. It doesn’t seem to bother Ace and, in this very small sample size, only seems to happen when he’s eating, anyway. Still, he’s a nice enough guy; he may be a member of a rival crew but he’d bought drinks for all of Buggy’s crew, and Richie likes him a lot. (Speaking of sleeping, Richie is curled up at Ace’s feet, his head on Ace’s foot, so deep in slumber that his tail’s not even twitching.) So really, it’s the least Buggy can do to pick Ace’s head up from the table. 

Ace wakes up with Buggy’s hand grasped in his hair, before Buggy can pull it back to his wrist. He leans into the touch as he sits up, before he really takes notice, and the way his hair’s all mussed up and half-falling over his face is actually pretty cute. Okay, how would be a really good time for Buggy to pull his hand back, but still, somehow he doesn’t.

“Huh?” says Ace, looking straight at Buggy and the very obvious end of his wrist.

“I was just picking you back upright! I thought it would wake you up.”

“Okay,” says Ace, and Buggy can’t tell if he buys it.

(What’s there to buy, though? Buggy’s not going to think too closely about it.)

* * *

The sound of Alvida and Mohji arguing about something dumb again is actually kind of relaxing, now that Buggy’s had to hear it so often. It’s getting late; the stars are poking out of the sky like small animals, and after a reasonably successful day Buggy can’t complain. He stretches his arms up, leaning against the wall and cracking his back. 

Sitting beside him, Ace lights another fire between his fingertips and then lets it die, smoke curling into the air for a few seconds. The crew used to have a full-time fire-eater back in the day, and Buggy considers suggesting it to Ace. But it’s such a limited use of his powers; that would be like suggesting Buggy do escape art and only that with his. Ace closes his fist; another wisp of smoke curls out, twirling like a streamer in the air. 

A slight squeak comes from the shadows, alerting Buggy to the approach of Cabaji on his unicycle. 

“Captain.”

“What?”

“We’ll get to the next island in a day and a half.”

Buggy nods. “Right.” 

A sudden weight falls onto his shoulder--Ace’s head; he’s sleeping again already. Buggy slumps down a little against the wall so it’s a better angle for the both of them, and tucks some of the hair falling over Ace’s forehead behind his hair.

“Captain?”

“What?”

Cabaji smirks at him. 

“What? It’s not like he’s going to wake up anyway.”

The smirk widens. Buggy chases Cabaji away with a fist until he rounds the corner.

* * *

The party falls into a lull after a while, but it’s not close to really winding down. Buggy’s only on his sixth pint of ale, anyway; it’s not a party until everyone’s had at least twelve. Ace is passed out beside him, after only two and a half pints (and enough food to keep pace with the rest of the crew put together while he was awake); he’ll be up again later--maybe. He’s been out long enough that the wood on the table’s got to have left an imprint in his cheek. 

Maybe he’s faking it, though. Under the table, his hand is warm and solid and tight around Buggy’s. It should be uncomfortable, and if Ace were awake Buggy would definitely complain to him, but--right now maybe it can’t be helped. Buggy can still drink with one hand, and someone else can refill his glass. That’s why he’s the captain, anyway--you don’t have to do everything for yourself.

Still, though.

Buggy tugs on Ace’s arm. “Oi. Wake up.”

Ace yawns, lifts his head up, and--the grain of the table is etched onto his face, as if his skin’s a tree-trunk inside out.

Buggy snorts; there’s still some sauce at the corner of Ace’s mouth, too. Ace seems completely unaware of all of it; he just squints at his half-empty mug, picks it up, puts it down, and then grabs Buggy’s. 

“Hey!” Buggy’s barely finished the word before Ace has already drained his mug. “Finish yours first.”

“Mine was warm,” says Ace. “There’s enough to go around.”

“Whatever,” Buggy grumbles. “Give us another round!”

Ace smiles, bright like precious metals in the midday sun, and if something feels funny in Buggy’s stomach, that’s just because he’s downed his ale too fast.

* * *

“You know,” says Alvida. “I always tend to think of him as larger than you.”

Buggy’s not sure what the hell that’s supposed to mean, in or out of the context of Ace crawling into his lap and falling asleep, his face buried in Buggy’s chest (damn good thing that this chair in the map room is big enough). It’s not like Alvida’s that much taller than Buggy; the difference in their heights is about the same as between Buggy and Ace. Maybe she’s just calling both of them short. 

“Do you have a point?” says Buggy.

“Not really,” says Alvida. “Just making an observation.”

Buggy frowns. They haven’t been getting as much treasure lately; they’ve been sailing at a slower pace. He tilts his head backward, staring into the treasure maps he’s already memorized stuck to the ceiling. Which ones are still good? Which ones were ever good? What’s their best bet?

“Are you sure he’s not joining the crew?” Alvida says.

“He’s too loyal to that damn old man,” Buggy replies instantly. “He keeps telling me to join them.”

Alvida laughs.

“Don’t think I don’t know you want to be in charge again on your own!”

She doesn’t deny it. 

“Anyway,” says Buggy.

(That old man won’t be around forever, but even after that--well, by that point, who the hell knows where Buggy will be? Thinking of the future in specific terms like that never got anyone anywhere.)

* * *

The captain’s quarters on this ship are too small, but Buggy’s never gotten around to making them bigger, what with all the other repairs the ship needs and the money he’d have to part with in order to remodel. Ace calls them cozy, and, well. He’s put off a renovation this long; what’s another few months, or years? Or maybe it’s just weeks. Ace has talked about going on a mission, needing to take care of some things, for quite some time, and yet he’s kept circling back around, ending up on Buggy’s ship and in Buggy’s bed. He always sleeps sprawled out, as if he’s trying to hold all of the bed and all of Buggy under him--it’s cute. And then it gets uncomfortable, and Buggy elbows him awake and shoves him aside.

“You could move out of the way,” Ace mumbles, shoving his shoulder back into Buggy’s face.

The freckles dusted across it are faint. At this angle, his face looks strange, almost familiar in an unexpected way, like a figure from Buggy’s childhood, distorted by time and memory and dust. He thinks about weird shit when he’s still half-asleep.

Ace’s arms snake around his middle, and Ace wriggles himself into a position that’s more comfortable for both of them, his head tucked into the crook of Buggy’s neck.

“I really do need to get going soon,” he says through a yawn.

He’s just about to fall back asleep, and he’s definitely going to drool on Buggy this time. Ace snuggles a little closer, and--yeah, he probably means it this time. It’ll be a while before they see each other again. Buggy rubs the small of his back.

“Hey kid, don’t get soft on me.”

Ace is already snoring, his heart beating steady against Buggy’s side. 


End file.
